15. Jess

Chapter 15

Jess

T he days passed in a blur as I spent most of my waking hours meeting with my Council. With most of the men sent to fight in a foreign land, the work of keeping families fed and industry moving rested on women and elderly. My chief responsibility, and my greatest challenge, was balancing the needs of the nation with the simple daily requirements of mothers and children. I could only push my people so far.

The ashes of my father and brother were expected to arrive within a week, and plans were made to honor them both. I overruled tradition and ordered Justin be laid to rest beside our father in the crypt. He would be the first non-monarch interred in that sacred place.

My coronation was another topic burning the tongues of my advisors.

They argued that my throne would not be secure until the crown was firmly seated on my brow. While I agreed with their sentiment and longed to give the people something positive to celebrate, I insisted the ceremony be delayed until I returned from one last mission, the details of which I could not reveal—even to my Council. I told them I had to personally attend an errand vital to Kingdom security. Fearful of who I could trust as my reign began, I dared not share the location—or even the existence—of the cave I had hidden in following my escape from my mother. The place had been a secret for over a thousand years, and I wasn’t about to change that.

It might soon be the only place in the world I could be alone.

Two weeks following my return to the Palace, I stood staring at the bronze doors of the Throne Room, a small leather satchel at my side. Mage Ernest, whom I was coming to appreciate for his candor and positive spirit, stood beside my chief guard, blocking my exit.

The guard crossed his burly arms. “This is a terrible idea, Your Majesty. You barely escaped multiple attempts on your life, are finally safe, and now you want to leave the safety of the Palace again?”

“Majesty, I must agree. Surely there is someone else who could handle this errand for you. Any member of Council would go if you asked. I would go in your place. Please reconsider.” Mage Ernest’s tone was calm, a contrast to the captain’s urgency.

I let out a deep sigh and peered up at the men. “Captain, Mage, I understand how this must look and appreciate your concern, but this is a journey I must take. There is no one who can speak for the Crown on this matter. I will be fine.”

“At least allow a complement of my men to travel with you.” The captain’s voice held a note of desperation. I knew how hard he had taken it when he learned of the recent deaths of three members of the royal family he had sworn to protect. He did not want to lose another.

I rested a hand on his arm, something I would never have done as Princess. “I will be fine. Where I travel, no one can follow. You are going to have to trust me, despite how I may have toyed with your trust in the past.”

The captain gawked at my admission. I had indeed been a terror to the Royal Guard.

He stared a moment, then relented and stepped aside. Mage Ernest followed suit and bowed as I strode through the gilded doors toward the Palace’s main entrance, where my carriage awaited.

I climbed up and peered out the window at the snow-covered city. We passed through quickly, but people stirred as the sun lit the horizon with a splash of brilliant orange and gold. A few waved and smiled or offered respectful curtsies.

Throughout those first weeks, I tried to keep my arrival quiet, to allow my father’s ashes to return before news of my ascension became too widely known, but I learned a vital lesson: A secret known by more than two people would rarely remain a secret. The moment the Council adjourned from our meetings on that first day, half the city was abuzz with news of their new ruler. Wild rumors raced like wildfires, some making ridiculous claims about the King’s death, others speculating on insane things the petulant girl who now wore the crown might do next. Few held even a kernel of truth, but each stung all the same.

The warmth I received as the carriage rolled through town was due to the work of Trade Minister Carver. I had always thought he was little more than a smarmy dandy in his frilly shirts and garish coats, but the man knew how to spread word across the inns and shops of the capital. His little mice scurried and spoke to boost their fledgling Queen’s reputation. One claimed I had fought crazed assassins in an attempt to save my father and brother while others talked of my valiant efforts to rescue the Kingdom from the iron grip of my now-maligned mother.

I protested the use of falsehood, arguing that my reign should be based on truth and honor.

Carver smiled, as if gentling a child, but explained that I was not well liked or respected as Princess, and some “stretching of the truth” was required to win the people to my side as Queen. After that painful admission, I gave him free rein to carry out his work and determined to focus on the myriad of other issues facing my people.

The carriage rolled to a stop at the steps of the Temple of the One, waking me from my thoughts. I reached for the handle, but the footman beat me to it, snapping to attention as I emerged. The liveried man offered a deep bow.

“How long will Her Majesty be at prayer?”

“You may return to the Palace. I will be a few days,” I said. “Thank you, Marcel,” I added.

The man’s eyes widened as he peered up from his bow. A smile bloomed on his face as I turned and strode into the Temple.

The nave was empty and dark, lit by only a few candles at the far end. A lone priest kneeled before the central altar. At the sound of my steps, the balding man turned to peek over his shoulder. I was only halfway down the central aisle when he leaped to his feet and bolted toward me.

“Your Majesty! Forgive me. I had no idea you were coming this morning,” he said through heavy breaths. “What brings you to the Temple so early? How may I serve?”

I waited for the priest to complete his bow and look up before speaking.

“I wish to spend some time in the crypt. I have enjoyed few moments alone since I returned, and I wish to mourn my family in private. Please see that no one disturbs me.” I raised a small book. “I will be some time.”

“Of course, Majesty.” He glanced from the book to the leather satchel in my other hand. He cocked a brow but held his tongue as he turned and led me to the stairs descending into the crypt.

At the top of the stairs, I placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to startle. “Father, please go about your prayers. I will be fine from here.”

The priest bowed, then resumed his position before the altar.

I continued down the stairs, pausing only briefly before the massive doors of the crypt, locking them behind me from inside. The magical flames cast an eerie glow, but this time I didn’t care. I marched to the far end of the marble hallway, peered into the mirror resting against one wall, then walked purposefully through the glass and vanished, leaving the flames to ponder the dead without me.

The cave’s magical flames mirrored those of the crypt, casting a smokeless glow throughout the rough-walled cavern. I took a few steps beyond the mirror and stopped, a chill running up my spine with the memories of my last visit. I knew Keelan hadn’t meant to harm me—that the real Keelan would never hurt anyone without cause—but I couldn’t keep the trickle of fear at bay.

Flame light glinted off the silver pitcher resting on one of the round wooden tables, and a smile emerged. How had I forgotten about the mystical drink that waited so patiently for my return? I sat and poured a cup, the first fruity sip washing away my anxiety and fear, leaving only a clear mind and pleasant hint of chocolate.

Finally calm, my gaze traveled around the cavern.

Cots, tables, shelves—just as I remembered it.

Atikus had told me it would take Keelan a week or two to arrive, so I pulled out my book and leaned back for a relaxing read. I had been honest with the priest when I talked about how little time alone I had enjoyed since returning. The quiet of the cave was a welcome respite from my long days shepherding the Palace’s efforts.

Even a queen needed a moment’s peace.

Hours passed. When I tired of reading, I retrieved a small wooden box filled with blank parchment, a quill, and tin of ink. For once, I had the peace and quiet to think. I turned my mind to the most pressing issues facing my kingdom, starting with key roles I had yet to fill.

A messenger had arrived from the army the day before. I was relieved to learn that General Marks had survived and was leading what remained of my forces home. I scribbled, “Minister of War,” then wrote, “Marks?” beside it. I thought a moment and put another note to the side of the name: “Chancellor?” That idea had come to me as I lay awake a few nights earlier, unable to sleep with matters of state spinning in my head. Uncle Ethan had been my family’s closest friend and confidant. He might not make a great spymaster, but he could lead my Ministers.

Moreover, I trusted him. He might be the only person in the Kingdom I could say that about. The sad aloneness in that thought gave me pause.

I noted several other roles and potential candidates, then decided to think through other items.

The Kingdom faced a dwindling Gift.

Thorn might’ve been a snake in the grass, but he wasn’t wrong about the desperate situation with our magical bloodline. I wrote, “Gift—exchange with Melucia? Island tribes? Eastern states?” I had far more questions than answers when my quill stopped moving. After a moment’s pause, another idea struck, and I wrote, “Atikus/Melucia’s Guild.” The old Mage always wanted to talk about the future, so we would do just that.

For the next several hours, I grappled with rebuilding the Kingdom’s military, dealing with the poor educational system in towns outside the capital, the plight of farmers whose crops had been confiscated for the war effort, the endless stream of orphans and widows created by the war, and dozens of other problems I had no idea how to solve. When I set my quill down and leaned back, my mind felt numb.

As I rubbed weary eyes, a horse whinnied beyond the cavern’s entrance. Then hooves clomped against the rocky shore. I shot out of my chair and froze, my unwavering glare fixed on the cave’s far wall that I knew was a hidden entrance. In the space of a breath, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen poked his head through the magical stone.

“Dittler!” A giddy young girl’s squeal flew from my lips as I raced forward. Dittler met me halfway and buried his head into my shoulder. The cheerful clatter of the stallion’s hooves made me giggle as he danced with the thrill of our reunion.

“I missed you so much, my baby boy,” I said.

Dittler whinnied again and licked my face with a slobbery tongue.

“Your Majesty looks good in drool,” a deep, amused voice said from the entrance.

My head snapped up, and Keelan’s eyes met mine for the first time in weeks.

I saw only kindness and warmth, no trace of the malevolent evil that had stalked me before. Keelan’s face broke into laughter as drool fell from my forehead into my eye, forcing me to swat it away with the back of my hand.

“You realize it is a crime to laugh at the monarch? I could have your head . . . or something . . . I am sure it would be very bad for you,” I stammered, trying to walk the line between stern and witty. Dittler startled me with another lick.

Keelan snorted. “A nation of laws. I like it here.”

I tossed an empty silver cup in his direction and grinned when he ducked.

He looked up, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as he said, “Regal as ever, Your Majesty.”

I chuckled and offered a mock curtsey. “I am so glad you approve, Lieutenant.”

The ice now thoroughly shattered by Dittler’s slobber, Keelan stepped forward and gripped the horse’s reins. His confident face betrayed something I hadn’t seen a moment before. He looked down and stroked Dittler’s side. “It’s good to see you again, Your Majesty . . . I mean, Jess. I . . . I don’t even know how to apologize for . . . well . . .”

I was tempted to let him struggle with his apology, simply for the amusement of watching the huge man writhe, but finally saved him. My voice was firm, yet also gentle. “Keelan, stop. It was not you who attacked me, but it was you who saved me in the end. I know that. It may take some time to get used to everything, but you bear no blame for what happened. Besides, you forced me to face my destiny, and I am grateful for that.”

He cocked his head like a confused pup.

I grinned. “Come and sit. I remember how much you loved this wine, and my cook insists I take cheese, bread, and meat with me everywhere. We can catch up with a small meal.”

Keelan ran a hand over his stubble and smiled. “That sounds good. I am hungry, and that wine might calm my nerves a bit.”

“I make you nervous?” I asked playfully.

“Uh, well, maybe. I don’t know,” he stammered.

My laughter bounced off the walls of the cave. “I am teasing you. Just sit and tell me, how is Atikus? I miss that funny old man.”

The comfort of the cave made it easy to lose track of time, and we talked long past the afternoon and into the night. Keelan omitted few details of his trip back to Saltstone and the weeks he experienced following the Kingdom’s failed siege of Saltstone. He hadn’t been there when my mother fell but described the events as Declan and Atikus had explained them to him. When he told me about Isabel’s order to hunt down the mass of fleeing civilians, tears began to trickle down my cheeks.

“She was horrible,” was all I could say.

“Jess, it was Irina, not your mother.”

My voice hardened. “My mother chose to bring Irina back. She chose to sacrifice her husband, son, and daughter on the altar of Irina’s ambitions. In the end, it might have backfired when Irina consumed her soul, but it was my mother’s choices that led to all of this. As much as I may want to forgive her, to love and mourn her as a daughter, as Queen, I cannot forget or forgive the treachery and death that woman thrust upon our two nations.”

I peppered him with questions, and he patiently answered each. At the end of his tale, Keelan’s stomach rumbled.

I chuckled. “I take it you are hungry again?”

“I’m a big boy. I like to eat.” He grinned back. “And I happen to have purchased some salted fish and vegetables from the ferry that brought me across the bay. Would you like some?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Sure. I will try your salted fish, but do not hate me if I go back to my bread and cheese after the first bite. It sounds suspicious, especially coming from a ferry’s stores.”

While Keelan retrieved the fish from his saddlebags, I walked to the shelving and found plates and cutlery. When I turned, he was standing by the table staring at me. I looked down to see what was out of place.

“I’m sorry,” he said as his face colored. “It’s just that . . . well . . . the last time I saw you, we were in filthy, dusty riding clothes with tangled hair and dirty faces. I don’t think we bathed the whole time we were on the run. And now . . . well, you’re . . . beautiful.” He looked down as he muttered the last word.

I blushed then grinned at his discomfort.

That’s when I took my first long look at the Guardsman in his crisp navy uniform. He had removed his coat and laid it on one of the cots when we first sat to talk, and I hadn’t given it much thought.

But now my mind was spinning.

When had he changed into a clean uniform following his journey here? Surely his clothes should stink of the road and the bay, but they didn’t.

Why would he change his uniform before entering the cave?

I was puzzling through those questions when Keelan found his courage and took the plates from my hand. I startled and took a step back.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin, then turned and began setting the plates on the table.

As if seeing him for the first time, my eyes traced the outline of his strong jaw. I watched the muscles in his back shift in his tight white shirt. I chided myself for staring and turned back to the shelves, pretending to retrieve something else for our meal before joining him once more.